


Flotsam

by apolesen



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolesen/pseuds/apolesen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor goes through things in the TARDIS and finds a photograph of someone he cannot identify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flotsam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blind_man_sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blind_man_sun/gifts).



> Written based on the prompts “accidentally falling asleep together” and “reacting to the other one crying about something”.

‘Fitz?’ 

Fitz stopped his strumming and looked up. The Doctor had spent the past hour looking through an old chest in silence. Now he had stepped away from the box. He looked like he had not spoken at all. His eyes were fixed on a framed photograph in his hands. 

‘Yeah?’ Fitz said. 

The Doctor shook himself and approached. He handed over the photograph.

‘Who is this?’ 

A girl was staring back at him from the photograph. Her eyes, dark and large, had been fixed on the lens when the photo had been taken. Now, they seemed to look right at Fitz. She was pretty, though not really Fitz’s type. With her short hair and high-necked jumper, she looked tomboyish. Nevertheless, there was something very arresting about her. Something about those eyes… 

Fitz handed it back. 

‘I have no idea, sorry.’ 

The Doctor looked down at the photograph, biting his lip. Slowly, he sat down beside Fitz. 

‘I can’t remember her,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know her name. Or who she was. But…’ He hesitated. ‘She was important.’ 

The Doctor’s face relaxed. Tears were falling from his eyes. For a moment, Fitz sat transfixed. People usually screwed up their faces when they cried. They became blotchy and swollen, and no wonder, really. But when the Doctor wept, it was like one of those weeping Madonna statues, a perfect face with tears running down it. It was a face made for weeping. 

‘Doctor…’ He put his guitar aside and pulled the Doctor closer. He did not know what to say - perhaps there was nothing he could say. He did not know who the girl in the photo was, and even if he did, he was not certain whether he would have told him. Perhaps it was better for him not to know. Who knew what had come to pass between them, what she had done to him and he to her? 

So he simply held him. The Doctor did not speak. Fitz’s cheek rested against his hair, and his free hand found the Doctor’s, still clutched around the photograph. 

Little by little, the Doctor’s quiet sobs became calmer, until he simply breathed.  
‘Doctor…?’ 

The Doctor did not respond. Fitz tilted his head. The Doctor’s eyes had slid shut. His grip around the photograph was loose. Fitz sighed; his arm wrapped around the Doctor’s shoulders had started to hurt. He considered giving the Doctor a push to wake him up, but he could not bring him to do it. His face was as beautiful asleep as awake. 

Fitz picked the photograph out of the Doctor’s hands and put it down on the floor, so that he would not see it when he woke. Then he edged himself into a slightly more comfortable position. He kissed the Doctor’s forehead and whispered: 

‘Good night.’ 

He leaned his head against the Doctor’s, and waited to drop off.


End file.
